Poppin' In For A Visit
by Tanya Tsuki
Summary: America is not happy with New Jersey's relationship and decides to talk to him about it.


_Disclaimer: APH and its characters are not mine. This version of NJ is mine, but that's it. NJ does call Al a dictator…that does not reflect my opinion (nor the opinion of NJ in general), but he only does so to tick Al off. _

Alfred had heard rumors about one of his many sons' relationships, specifically, the relationship New Jersey was having with Venezuela. Worried, he tried to call his son, Joe, about it, but got a gruff "Can't tawk now; at work. Meet me at my favorite diner—y'remember which one it is, right pops?— tonight at seven if y'want to tawk so bad," before being hung up on.

Being in Washington, DC at the time of the phone call, Alfred had let out a sigh before jumping in his car and heading north. Within four hours, he had finally reached the state, and after missing the right exit, wound up in a city that was too far north of the diner. Scrunching his nose at the state of the city, Alfred had then spent another hour back tracking, this time making sure he got off on the right exit. Pleased with himself for finally being on track, he didn't notice the signs saying "Turns from right lane only" and "No left-hand turns" until he had already come up on and passed the diner, which was on the left hand side of the road. Thankfully for him, there was another jug handle just down the street, which allowed him to finally pull into the diner's parking lot just before seven.

Already in an unpleasant mood, Alfred entered the diner, expecting it to have been a little—ok, a lot— cleaner than it actually was. On the plus side, it did seem cleaner than when he was last here. He took a seat in one of the oddly sticky booths and waited for his errant son to show up. Seven on the dot, a man wearing a maintenance worker's uniform covered in grease entered the diner and, spotting the Nation, walked over to the booth, sliding across from him wearing a self-assured grin.

"Yo pops. Y'get here ok?" He asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, giving Alfred the hint that Joe knew about his backtracking, but Alfred just settled for a nod and a grin. Alfred noted with a somewhat sad smile that Joe had changed again. He remembered the days when the state had looked like an odd combination of Sweden and Holland. Now, however, he looked like the illegitimate love child of both Italians and Germany. His hair matched Feliciano's, right down to the random curl, but was slicked back much like Ludwig's. His face had the German's intensity to it, but otherwise was identical to Lovino. If Alfred didn't know better, he would have assumed that the State belonged to those three, not him.

Fingers snapping in front of his face brought Alfred's thoughts back around to the here and now. "Hey, pops. The waitress wants to know what y'want to eat. Didja want me to order for ya or not?"

"Ah, sorry. Can I get a cheeseburger, please?" Alfred asked the waitress, flashing her one of his million dollar smiles. The waitress blushed and nodded before scurrying off, leaving two sodas behind that Joe must have ordered while Alfred was preoccupied with his thoughts.

Joe looked at Alfred, head tilted slightly as the Nation seemed about to slip into his thoughts again. "Awright pops. What's up?"

Alfred's attention came back to his son, a slightly confused look on his face. "What do you mean 'what's up'? Can't a father visit his son without something being 'up'?" A bark of laughter hit his ears.

Where before Joe's tone had been a little light and his speech purposely slow, it had now taken on a darker tone, and was becoming increasingly faster as the state returned to his natural speed. "Please. Y'spent three weeks camping in the Pine Barrens looking for the Jersey Devil, and even had time to drag Uncle Matty down the Shore. Three weeks in Jersey and y'didn't even pop in to say hi. A father ignores his child for at least a decade and then jus' pops in unannounced? Y'wanted to talk to me about somethin'. Tell me what it is now, or I'm leaving the second I get my Taylor Ham."

Alfred took a moment to understand the man, nodding slowly after a moment. "Fine, then. Tell me what this is," He said, putting a newspaper on the table.

The state took one look at it, and then looked at Alfred, eyebrow raised. "It's a paper, pops. Y'losing your mind again?" The smirk he gave told Alfred immediately that Joe was playing dumb on purpose, wanting Alfred to spell out the reason for his visit.

"I know it's a paper," Alfred said slowly, smiling at the waitress as she brought the food over. "I was talking about the headline on the paper."

"Hm? Venezuela to give Island to New Jersey?" Joe 'read,' not even looking at the paper as he took a bite of his pork roll. "Isn't it sweet of her?"

Alfred choked on his bite of hamburger, quickly taking a gulp of soda in an attempt to dislodge the food. "Sweet? The country is a freaking dictatorship!"

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one," Joe muttered around a bite of pork roll.

"What was that?" Joe looked up from his food and gave a chuckle. Despite Alfred claiming that he inherited nothing from Arthur, he sure was giving a pretty good imitation of Arthur's 'pissed off face.'

"I said, I don't care if her boss is a dictator or not. She's sweet, and beautiful, and when we finally consummated our relationship, I was so—oh, what was the word y'like?— awesome, that she decided to commemorate the day by giving me an island, that really belonged to me anyway, and get this, it's got bald eagles, _your_ bird might I add, as well as an endangered species of heron. She offered to clean it up, but I'll help o'course, and we're going to take real good care of it, as if it were our own _son_. We won't ignore it like _some _ parents. I'm determined to break that like father like son tradition we seem to have going, y'know?" All of this was said in a seemingly inhuman speed, and the whole time, Joe watched his father's face, amused, as it went from one of shock to one of pure anger.

"You-who gave you permission to even engage with Venezuela?" Alfred finally said after a moment, still stunned at his son's audacity to call him a bad parent.

"Well, it's not like I was ever explicitly told _not_ to engage with Venezuela. She gave it to me, she didn't trade it." For a moment it looked like Joe was going to say more, but he stopped suddenly, pulling out his cell phone and looking at the screen. "Aw fuck," He said, in response to whatever he saw. "Look, pops, I gotta go. Official shit to do and all that. It was fun…sorta." Joe stood, grabbing a briefcase that Alfred hadn't noticed him coming in with. The state headed towards the door but stopped suddenly, turning and giving Alfred an oddly Romano-like smile. "By the way, pops, don't ignore me for years and then pop back into my life when I'm doing something that pisses you off. It really doesn't make me happy, and who knows what could happen when I'm not happy."

A chill found its way down Alfred's back, the tone of Joe's voice having taken on an odd edge to it. "Oh, and tell Yorkie that Ellis Island is mine and I'd highly appreciate it if he stopped claiming it as his," Joe added, almost as an afterthought, before striding out of the diner, leaving a stunned Alfred with the bill.

_There are many informative notes found on the Livejournal version of this story. If something seems new to you, or you want to find out why I did something a certain way, please feel free to head over there. _


End file.
